Amelia's Dolls
by Evan Jameson
Summary: Amelia Pond waited five minutes, she waited twelve years. She still has the dolls she made, in a dusty box under her bed. What happens when the adult Amy pulls out the dolls to play with? Oneshot, R/R


A/N: Another plot bunny I just couldn't get rid of. It was gumming up my Creativity Matrix, so I had to pull out my sonic and excrete literary excess to free up the Muse Rotors and get the Wedding Eve Preparation Facilities going again. Sleep deprivation is awesome, even if the ideas it gives me are a bit... out there. Anyway, this is M-Rated, but not SUPER explicit. I really liked the idea, and I think that I turned it into a really good (if a little bit fucked up, pardon my french) fic. Read, enjoy, review. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the setting.

The young Scottish girl in England was sitting in her room on a bright day in the middle of June. She was just about twenty one years old, red-haired and feisty. And today, she was bored. Even the sun shining down outside didn't interest her. She pondered, 'What to do today...?'

Thinking hard, she finally decided on a course of action. The girl crawled on her hands and knees under her bed, sneezing at the dust bunnies that had accumulated and bred. Finally, she found a collection of several shoeboxes deep in the back corner, against the wall. She pulled one out into the light, squinting at the faded writing on the cardboard.

"Dollies," the box read. The young girl quietly squealed in delight, before going silent and covertly looking around, wary of anybody listening. She then opened the box, revealing several sets of dolls, all depicting the same two people - one, a handsome young man wearing a ripped blue shirt, swirly tie, and blue slacks; the other, a redheaded girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to the young woman playing with the dolls.

She took one pair of the dolls out of the box, and stood them next to each other.

"Who are you?" asked the male doll. "Are you Amelia Pond, with the fairytale name? Do you have any fish custard?"

"Doctor? You're back!" the young woman said, acting as the female doll this time. "No, I'm afraid we're out of fish and custard. I never thought you were coming back..."

"Of course I returned, my dear! It's only been a decade," she continued, acting as the male doll again. The young woman then made the female doll swoon, and brought the male doll closer to 'catch' her. "Amelia, what is wrong? Don't you want to come with me?"

The female doll, gazing intently into the Doctor's eyes, whispered, "Yes Doctor, I want you."

"And I you, Amelia," replied the male doll, still voiced by the young redhead.

Amelia leaned in, brushing a light kiss across the male doll's lips.

The Doctor responded, taking her in his arms and pulling her close to him. He kissed her eagerly, stroking the bright red yarn making up her hair.

Amelia responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling herself even tighter to his body. He stumbled slightly before regaining his balance, holding her tighter and kissing her even more fiercely.

Amelia disengaged herself from his lips, dragging her lips down his check to his neck and sucking on his collarbone. Her teeth found the sensitive bone and the Doctor hissed in pleasure. His hands holding her found their way between her thighs, pressing and manipulating her body in ways that she hadn't even imagined.

Clothes began flying, ripped off in between kissing, licking, nipping and grabbing. The Doctor lowered Amelia to the ground, gazing hungrily down at her naked form. She blushed under his scrutiny, but returned the stare with equal passion, letting her eyes roam over his strong frame.

He dropped to his knees, straddling one of her thighs. His own thigh pressed into her, feeling her heat. Amelia gasped as lightning shot up her body, making her tingle all over. He leaned down, his long hair forming a curtain around their faces as they met once more, tongues clashing for dominance.

He rocked his thigh back and forth as they kissed, rubbing against her and making her breath come short. She was getting hotter and hotter, and the Doctor dropped his head from her lips to her chest, letting his teeth graze over her nipple. With that, Amelia plunged into darkness.

Her only light was the fireworks emanating from her very body; her only sound was her own gasping breath. Her only scent was her own arousal. The only thing she could taste was his tongue; the only thing she could feel was his body, pressed against her own.

Her world exploded, sending her crashing through waves of ecstacy. Laying back, the dolls forgotten, the young Scottish woman in England let her body shake until her orgasm subsided. Still weak, she rose, replacing the dolls in the box and sliding the box back under the bed. She stood and stretch, wobbling slightly.

When she had recovered, the young redhead stepped to her closet, taking out a police uniform, complete with short skirt and fake radio. She needed to be ready to work that night.

When she heard her front door burst open and a man shouting, she reached behind her bedroom door and took out the cricket bat hidden there. Nobody was ruining her day, not today.


End file.
